


25 Days of Christmas

by angel_wing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Crack, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:43:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_wing/pseuds/angel_wing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How would you feel if someone kidnapped Santa? How would you decorate the bunker for Christmas? Who would you invite to spent Christmas with you? And what would be an ideal gift for Cas?</p><p>Dean knows it all. Christmas is coming and Dean is getting ready. Even though he doesn't quite want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1st December

“Hey, Sammy, thanks for the pie,” Dean said as he entered the dining room.

“What pie?” Sam asked from his seat at the bunker’s couch.

“The one you left for me on the kitchen counter,” Dean said, thumbing behind himself in the direction of kitchen.

“I never left pie for you, Dean,” Sam said, his brows furrowing.

“I should’ve figured, you never do,” Dean sniggered and sat down beside his brother.

Sam just rolled his eyes at him. “If I didn’t buy it, and neither did you, were did it come from?”

“I don’t know, but man it was the best pie I’ve ever eaten!” Dean said stretching his arms above his head and sliding a bit on the couch.

“You ate it?” Sam asked aghast.

“Well, yeah,” Dean said. “What’s so surprising about that?”

“Dean, you ate something that appeared in our kitchen out of nowhere,” his brother said seriously, as if Dean didn’t understand the weight of his actions. Well, he didn’t, but he wasn’t going to be concerned about it either, not even slightly.

“Chill, maybe Cas brought it,” Dean said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture and reaching out to grab some magazines.

“How much did you eat?” Sam asked.

“You ask like you don’t know me,” Dean answered. He wasn’t going to be bothered, the pie was delicious.

“You ate it whole, didn’t you,” his brother said, it wasn’t a question. “Dean, how could you be so stupid?”

“Hey, the pie was amazing, but you wouldn’t even notice, you, you… _cake lover_!”

“Seriously? You wanna throw names?” Sam asked unamused.

Dean just glowered at him.

“Fine!” Sam sighed and stood up. “I’m going to get something to drink, you want anything?”

“Yeah, bring me some eggnog.”

Sam stopped in his tracks and turned back to look at him. “What?”

“Er, I mean beer, bring me some beer,” Dean replied. Why did he say eggnog? Weird.

Sam eyed him suspiciously. “I know it’s December, but still it’s a bit weird.”

“Shut up, I meant beer. It was just a slip of tongue,” Dean snapped at him.

“Whatever,” Sam shrugged and went to the kitchen.

Dean sat still on the couch. Why did he say that? He was thinking about the pie, about it’s delicate, buttery crust and apple-spice filling and then he thought about how eggnog would fit to it perfectly, and he must have said it out loud.

Sam came back, carrying two bottles of beer, and placing them on the table in front of Dean.

“Sam, do we have stockings?” Dean said, frowning.

“I- I don’t think so, no. Why?” Sam asked warily.

“Nothing, just…” Dean frowned even more. “Nothing, forget about it.”

Sam eyed him carefully, but said nothing. They sat in silence for a while, and then Dean turned on the TV. He had to distract himself from his thoughts. He drank only half of his beer and then left it neglected for the rest of the evening. It didn’t taste right.

Around midnight Sam announced he’s going to bed and Dean was left alone. Soon enough he drifted off to sleep and he dreamed of a white Christmas…


	2. 2nd December

Dean woke up with a thought still lingering in his half-conscious mind. He stretched and made a few bones in his back pop into places with an audible click. Sleeping on the couch was less comfortable than before. Dean made his way to the kitchen to prepare himself a breakfast. He bustled around the kitchen, humming to himself, when Sam came in.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Morning, Sam! I’m making breakfast,” Dean answered happily.

Sam raised his brows at his chipper tone. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am!” Dean said. “Sit down, it’s gonna be ready in a sec.”

Sam looked uncertain, but sat down at the table nonetheless. A moment later Dean placed a plate before him.

“Um, Dean?” Sam said.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, sitting down with his own food.

“Why are those pancakes shaped like a Snowman?”

Dean looked down at his plate. There were four pancakes, arranged into two stacks, and a few strips of bacon in between the stacks that looked like a scarf. There even was a face and buttons made from chocolate drops.

“What the hell?” Dean said, glancing at his brother’s plate, then back at his own. Why did he make them look like that? “I made those?”

“You don’t remember?” Sam asked.

“No,” Dean said. “I mean, I’ve wanted to make pancakes but not like that!”

“Dean, something’s wrong.”

“You think?” Dean snapped. He was confused but he was also hungry, so he shrugged to himself and dug into his meal. “Gonna eat it though,” he said between the bites. “Snowman or not, they taste delicious.”

“Aren’t you curious why you made them?” Sam asked, pushing his plate away from himself.

“Well, not really,” Dean said and eyed Sam’s dish. “Hey, are you going to eat that?”

“No, I think I will make my own breakfast,” Sam answered warily and stood up to dig through the fridge.

“Suit yourself,” Dean said and pulled Sam’s plate closer. He already finished his own share.

After the breakfast both of them were lounging in the living room. Well, at least Dean was, because Sam decided to check the Internet for any new case for them.

“I think I got something,” Sam said after a while.

“What and where?” Dean asked standing up from the couch, ready to go for a hunt.

“I found an article about man gone missing in Goodland, Kansas…”

“That’s not far away, but it’s not really unusual,” Dean said sitting back down.

“Yes, but get this – ‘ _Nick Holly, age 78, is a well known local philanthropist. Despite his old age he still works as a volunteer at the local hospital, every year organizes Christmas dinner for homeless people and hands out presents for children from poor families at the Christmas Eve. Nick loves children, although he never had a family of his own. He was last seen on the evening choir rehearsal, around 7pm, November 30 th.’ _ There’s a whole article describing his social activity. They speak of him like a saint,” Sam said scanning the article.

“Saint, huh?” Dean chuckled.

“Here’s the photo of him,” Sam said and turned his laptop towards Dean.

“Why is he dressed in red pants?” Dean asked.

“They say that he always wears red clothes,” Sam said and went back to scanning the rest of the article.

“He must really like this color,” Dean said and then something occurred to him. “Wait a minute, red clothes, helps people and his name’s Nick. Are you thinking the same thing I’m thinking?”

“Maybe?” Sam answered.

“Somebody kidnapped Santa.”


	3. 3rd December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter haven't been beta-ed yet, but it will be. Soon.

“When was the last time you saw Mr. Holly?” Sam asked.

“You mean old Nick? Nobody called him ‘Mr. Holly’ for years.”

“Told ya,” Dean said, but Sam just gave him his trademark bitchface.

They were once again pretending to be FBI agents and were now interrogating Nick Holly’s neighbor and closest friend, Rudolph Rosesnout. He was the last person that saw Nick before he disappeared. Dean was very excited about this case, he got even more excited when they found out that guy was named Rudolph. _Rudolph Rosesnout_ , from all names! But Sam still was skeptical.

“Sorry about that,” Sam turned to Rudolph. “Could you tell us how your last meeting with Mr.– I mean Nick went?”

“We were coming back together from the choir rehearsal,” Rudolph said. “It must have been after 7pm, maybe half an hour past it. We stopped in front of my house and talked for few minutes, then we said goodbyes and he went to his place.”

“Did you saw him enter his house?”

“No, but few minutes later I saw from my kitchen window that the lights at his house were turned on.”

“And you haven’t seen or heard anything else? Anything suspicious?” Dean asked.

“No,” Rudolph said. “Although around 9pm I heard some weird noise.”

“What noise?” Sam asked.

“I think it was bells ringing.”

“What kind of bells?” Dean asked, his eyes alight. “Were those sleigh bells?”

“Actually, I think yes, yes they were!” Rudolph said.

“See?” Dean said to Sam, but he just sighed.

“Thank you, Mr. Rosesnout,” Sam said exasperated. “I think that would be all.”

“Let me ask you something officers,” Rudolph said. “Why is FBI investigating Nick’s disappearance?”

“This is a case of global importance–” Dean said, but Sam interrupted him.

“It’s confidential, we can’t say nothing more. Goodbye,” Sam said and pushed Dean out of Rudolph’s house.

“What is the matter with you, Dean? ‘ _Global importance_ ’?” Sam asked, walking to the Impala.

“What? Santa comes to children all around the world!” Dean huffed, following him.

“Would you stop that!” Sam said exasperated. “That’s not Santa!”

“But Sam, all evidence say it’s him! His name, his social activity, even his friend _Rudolph._ ” Dean replied. “I mean, come on!”

“So, what you’re saying is that _Santa_ lives in Goodland, Kansas, in _America_ and that his neighbor is actually a _reindeer_.”

“Yes!” Dean exclaimed.

“Dean, do you hear yourself?” Sam asked. They were now talking above Impala’s hood, standing on opposite sides of the car. “You sound like a psycho.”

Dean squinted his eyes at him. “Don’t say that. We need to find him,” he opened the door on the driver’s side, “and save Christmas.”

He knew he sounded a bit crazy, but Dean was absolutely sure that Nick Holly was actually _the_ Santa Claus. He didn’t know why he was so confident about it, it just felt like a right thing to do.

They questioned few more people, but found nothing suspicious. Nick was a nice, friendly old man ( _told ya_ ), he had no enemies nor was he ever connected with anything supernatural. Just a single man that disappeared from his own house in the middle of the night.

Brothers decided to check his house for any sign of clues. They sneaked inside at night, so no one would see them.

“Police reports say the doors were locked and there were no signs of breaking in,” Sam said, when they entered the quiet house.

“He must’ve let the attacker in,” Dean said. “Or they must’ve already been here when he came back.”

“And he locked the door after they left the house?” Sam asked mockingly. “Dean, maybe he just left for few days? Made himself small vacations?”

“Santa doesn’t have vacations, Sammy,” Dean said, moving from the backdoor to look around the house.

“You’re still at it?” Sam sighed. “Dean, he’s not–”

There was a loud thud and then some coughing coming from the living room. Both brothers raised their weapons, ready to fight, and slowly stepped into the room. Sam turned on his flashlight and they saw an old man, coughing and wheezing, sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

Dean immediately run to him and helped him get up.

“Santa! Are you all right?” Dean said concerned.

“You must be fucking kidding me,” Sam whispered to himself.

“Yes,” the man replied to Dean, as if not hearing Sam say anything. “Thank you, kid.”

“You heard that?” Dean beamed at Sam. “He called me a ‘kid’.”

“So what?” Sam asked. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“Could you boys bring me a glass of water?” the man, Nick, asked.

“Of course,” Dean said eagerly. “Sam, bring him some water.”

“Me?” Sam asked surprised. “You’re the ‘kid’, you should bring it.”

Dean rolled his eyes at him. “You could be a little more sympathetic, Sam. The Santa Claus just fell out of the chimney!”

“Well, that’s not entirely true.”

Both Winchesters turned to look at the older man.

“I did fell out of the chimney,” Nick said. “But I’m not Santa.”


	4. 4th December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter haven't been beta-ed yet, but it will be. Soon.

After the ‘Santa fiasco’ Dean closed himself in his room at the bunker and didn’t go out for a day. He was angry that he got manipulated so easily. Turns out this whole situation was a huge misunderstanding. The man, Nick, climbed into his own chimney to save a squirrel or some other small animal that stuck there, and he stuck there himself. With limited fresh air the man lost consciousness and without food and water his body weigh dropped significantly, so after spending there three days he just slid down the chimney.

Dean lied on his bed, regretting ever taking this case. He just made fool of himself and Sam’s laugh still ringed in his ears.

A soft knocking on the door diverted his attention from his thoughts, but he didn’t move or say anything.

“Dean?” Someone called on the other side of the door.

Another knocking followed, this time louder, more insistent, but he still didn’t answer. He didn’t want to see anybody.

“Dean, come out. Please?”

Still not answering Dean stood up from his bed and moved towards the door. He put his ear close to them and heard two people talking.

_“Maybe you would try?”_

_“Why is he locked there?”_

_“It’s a long story.”_ Sigh _. “It would be better if he told you himself.”_

It seems that Sam called for Castiel to try to drag Dean out of his room. _Great_. He was not going to listen to him though. Dean turned to lie back on his bed, but collided with something hard and warm.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Damnit, Cas!” Dean said, saving himself from falling by grabbing Castiel’s arm. “I should put a sleigh bell on you!”

“ _Sleigh bell_?” Castiel frowned.

“Did I say that out loud?” Dean said surprised. He was sure he just thought about it.

“Yes, you did,” Castiel said and frowned even more. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I am,” Dean said and realized that he still clutched to Cas’ arm, so he let go and took one step back. “What are you doing here?”

“Your brother was concerned about your wellbeing,” Castiel explained. “He wanted me to help you.”

“I’m fine. You don’t have to fly here on your tinsel angel wings every time Sam’s worried.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side.

“I am a celestial being. My wings are not physical, they are not made of any solid substance,” he said. “They are most certainly _not_ made of tinsel.”

He looked offended and petulant, like a big child, and Dean smiled to himself at the view.

“Aw, you look like you just found a coal in your stocking,” Dean said.

Castiel looked moderately confused and Dean laughed wholeheartedly.

“Alright, you’ve got to stop making that face,” Dean said when he regained his breath. “Or I’m going to suffocate.”

“Will you get out of your room now?” Castiel asked, schooling his features into his usual poker face and approaching Dean slowly.

“Yeah, I guess so—Wow!”

They were suddenly standing in the living room and Castiel was removing his hand from Dean's forehead.

“Fudge, Cas!” Dean yelled at him. “How many times did I tell you not to zap me anywhere?! We could just open the fudging door!”

“Did you just say ‘ _fudge’_?” Sam stepped into the room.

Dean turned to look at him.

“No, I said fudg- _Fuck_! I mean fuck!”

Both Sam and Cas were now looking at him with growing concern, but Dean was the most distressed of them all. He could not control his body, at least not fully, and he didn’t know why.

“I need to get a drink,” he said, sitting down on the couch. He had to calm his nerves.

“You want eggnog?” Sam smirked, but under Dean’s look of _‘I-will-kill-you-in-your-sleep’_ he added, “Okay, okay! I’ll bring you beer.”

“Bring mulled vine,” Dean said, surprising them both. “Ah, what the hell,” he sighed defeated. “Make it double.”


End file.
